Budapest
by MultiFandomRandomWriter
Summary: Clint knows his job. He knows what he has to do. He has to eliminate the threat. But when the time comes, he can't bring himself to do it. She has so much potential. He makes a different call. My take on what happened in Budapest, because I just couldn't take the suspense any longer. Please leave a review! Rated T for violence
1. Chapter 1

**This is my idea of what happened in Budapest. Hope you like it!**

Clint yawned and changed coarse ever so slightly. It had been a long... how long had it been? A month? Two? Maybe it had just been a week. Glancing back at the two women sleeping in the seats behind him he realised it didn't matter how long it had been, it was worth it. He never would have met these two he had grown so fond of if Fury had had any idea what he would do once he got to Russia... Recounting all that had happened...

"Barton, Fury has a mission for you."

Clint looked up to see who was adressing him, but by the voice he could already tell it was Coulson. "What mission?"

Coulson beckoned for Clint to follow him. "There's a... threat." He explained as they walked. "HYDRA has an agent that recently has been... causing problems for us... We need you to take her out."

Clint blinked a few times. "You- I- ...Yes sir."

"I'm glad you're cooperating. We weren't sure if you would. Normally we don't like to do stuff like this, but it has to happen."

"Where am I going anyways?" Clint asked, changing subject.

"Russia. I've arranged a jet for you so you won't have to deal with security."

"Thanks. I appreciate that. It's difficult to get my bow through. They won't let me take it as a carry on and I'm not letting them ruin it in some cramped space with a million other whatsits, besides, seating on planes is terrible! And I don't trust some of the pilots that they have flying those things, I'd much rather fly it myself." Coulson smiled at Clint's rant.

"Are you done now?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"Good." he said as he unfolded a map of Russia. "You're going... here. Moscow, the capital. HYDRA has a knack for being able to position themselves right in the center of things and go nearly undetected until they want to be found."

"Yeah. Great. When do I go?"

"As soon as possible."

"Great." Clint sighed. "Guess I better get packed, huh?"

"That might be preferable."

Clint walked to his room and threw some clothes in a suitcase. Then, pulling his phone, he punched in the familiar number that belonged to his wife's cell. It rung twice before she answered it. "Hello?"

"Clint?"

"Yeah, it's me. How are you and the kids?"

"We're all doing well, the kids had a cold last week, but they're feeling better now. Are you coming home soon?"

"I wish. No, I have a mission, I'm off to Russia in a couple of hours at latest."

"Is it going to be dangerous?"

"Possibly, but I'll be fine."

"You better be."

"I _will_ , don't worry so much, Laura, I promise I'll come back to you. As soon as I finish this mission I'll come back, work on the farm some, build that shed you've been wanting for awhile, and give you a big kiss. Okay?"

"Okay. I'm going to hold you to that."

Clint chuckled. "I love you, Laura."

"I love you too."

"Barton, time to go." A fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent barked through the earpiece.

"Alright, alright, I'll be one more second. Honestly, I may be deaf but I can hear you just fine without you shouting." He asnwered back. "Listen, honey, I have to go now. I love you."

"I love you too, and remember your promise!" Laura said.

"I will, bye!" Clint hung up. "I will..."

"Barton, **now**!"

"Alright, all right I'm coming! Stop shouting!" He rolled his eyes. "Seriously, I'm _only_ eighty percent deaf, I can hear just fine with the hearing aids." He muttered to himself. He grabbed his suitcase and walked down the hall to the runway.

"What took you so long?"

"I had some stuff to do, Olsen, you yelling at me didn't help it go any faster."

"Sorry." John Olsen shrugged. "You were taking a long time, Fury wants you out of here as soon as posible, I was just doing my job."

"I know, I know. Just try to do it less loudly next time, k?"

"Whatever you say, Barton"

Clint threw his suitcase in the jet and climbed in, placing his bow on the floor next to him. Olsen gave him a thumbs up.

"Bye Barton! Good luck on your mission!"

"Shouting." He reminded him. Clint pulled the door shut and made sure it was securely closed. He pushed the yoke up. A few minutes later, he was in the sky. When he landed in a low populated area eight hours later Clint ran his fingers through his hair. "I probably should have studied some Russian on the way here... Oh well," He said to himself."Too late now."

He grabbed his suitcase, bow, and quiver full of arrows and set off in the direction of the road. "Guess I'll have to flag down a taxi." He mumbled. When he had walked the three miles to the road -which was a little dirt-and-gravel one-laned thing- he saw nothing. There were no cars at all. "Great." After standing around waiting for something, _anything_ , for about forty-five minutes he decided to just start walking. "I sincerely hope that Moscow is this way." He said as he started walking towards the setting sun.

"I think it's west." He yawned. "Hopefully."

A couple of hours of walking later Clint felt like his feet were going to fall off. And he was practically sleep walking. 'Just a little bit longer.' He promised himself. 'Then you can flop down by the side of the road and hope HYDRA doesn't find you... aw, who am I kidding? I'm the only living thing on this road for mi-' A green pickup pulled up next to him. "-les..." He said out loud.

"Zdrastvweetye!" Said the driver, a man in his forties and wearing a plaid blue shirt. Clint only knew a few words in Russian, but hello was one of them he recognized.

"Umm... Hi... Do you know English?" Clint asked. 'Man I should have learned some Russian.'

"A leetle, yes." The man said with a heavy accent.

"Oh, great! Hey, umm, I need a lift to Moscow. Think you could...?"

"You weesh to go to Moscow?"

"Yes."

"Alright, hop een thee car." The man said, rolling his R's ever so much. Clint got in the passenger side.

"Thanks, I appreciate the ride." Clint yawned. "Hey, mind if I take a nap on the way there? It's been a long day."

"Yes, yes, by all means! Go right ahead!"

"Thanks again, uh... what was your name again?"

"Viktor Balashov." The driver said. "What ees yours?"

"Andrew Peters." Clint had thought up this name awhile ago. Viktor seemed innocent enough but loose lips... whatever that saying is, he's figure it out later when he wasn't so tired. He leaned against his seat and closed his eyes.

He awoke a couple hours later to Viktor shaking him.

"Hello? Awndrew Peeters? Sorry to wake you, but we are een Moscow now."

"Huh? Oh, thanks Viktor."

"Do you have hotel?"

"No... Just drop me off here, I guess."

"No, no, no! I will take you to hotel!"

"You've already done so much, I really can't-"

"I insist! What kind do you like?"

"Uh, the nearest, cheapest thing that doesn't have bed bugs, please."

Viktor laughed. "I know just thee place." After three left turns and one turn right and two minutes going straight he pulled up to a grey building that had at least twenty stories. 'This is just the place."

Clint didn't see a sign saying what the name of this place was-not that he'd have been able to read it anyways, everything's in Russian- but maybe he'd just missed it. "Thanks Viktor." Clint pulled out some money out and hoped it was around twenty US dollars. "Here, I don't quite know how much this is, but thanks for the ride."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Peeters." Viktor said. "And you are welcome."

Clint grabbed his stuff and stepped out of the green pickup then turned to wave. "Bye! And thanks agai-" All of a sudden he was hit in the back of the head. He knocked an arrow to his bow and spun around to see what hit him. He saw a flash of red and felt a small pain on his neck. His arm flew to his neck and pulled out a dart. He looked up and saw a foot flying towards him. The black boot hit him smack in the chest, the last thing he remembered before blacking out was hitting the ground.

 **Hope you like this chapter! I hope to get the next one up soon. Please leave a review on what you thought!**


	2. Chapter 2

When Clint woke up he found himself tied to a chair in a dark room. "Wha..? Hey! Why am I tied up? And why is everything muted?" He yelled. "If you broke my hearing aids you have to pay for them! Is anyone even there? This isn't the first time this has happened to me, you know! I will escape eventual-y! I'm hungry! I need the bathroom!" There was no answer to his ramblings. "Hey, you know what makes a good relationship? Co-mmu-ni-ca-tion! Get it? Communication! Somebody answer me!"

An empty silence followed for a few moments. Then a door to camoflouged to look like part of the wall opened and a short man with a double chin and sunglasses walked in.

"Finally. You guys aren't much for costomer service, are you?"

The man ignored him and opened a small suitcase sitting on a gray shelf. The only other things on the shelf were a few papers and a couple of books. After rifiling through it for a couple of minutes he pulled out a bright blue file with some Russian words in small print on the front. Inside were three pieces of paper. What was on the papers Clint didn't know.

"Hello, Awndrew Peeters... or should I say Cleent Barton?" His heavy Russian accent finally broke the silence. "You have been causing probleems for aus."

"Us."

"What?"

"And... Clint... Clint Barton, not 'Cleent'. Us, not 'aws'."

The man glared at him before continuing. "I suggest you do not aggravate me, else thees weel be much more painful for you."

"Yeah whatever." Clint rolled his eyes. He worked at his bonds silently. The man looked at him as if trying to decide whether he was good matieriel for whatever he wanted.

"So... what's your name?" Clint asked awkwardly, trying to mask the panic rising up in his chest.

"My name matteers not, you may call me Masteer."

"Uh... No thanks. I'm not really into that kinda thing, How about I. M. A. Weirdo. Possibly Creepy Russian Dude? Is the guy in the truck connected to you?" He had to strain to hear each word. He kenw he had to be yelling, even if it only sounded like the tiniest whisper to him.

"If you say one more word I weel make sure your deeath weel be slow and agonizing!" The Russian man barked, pushing his nose against Clint's in an display od dominance and anger. A long couple of seconds passed.

"Eh... no." Clint jumped up and gave the man a knee to the head. It was just enough to knock him out, not to actually do any serious harm to him. "I don't feel like dying today, I got three ***** kids and a wife to get back to. Sorry, scary HYDRA guy." He quitly opened the door and peeked out. A long, dimly lit hallway greeted him, exactly how he would have imagined an evil hideout in Russia. No one was in sight, so he crept out slowly.

There was a door to the right that stood open. He poked his head in and saw a man with a metal arm and a blank expression being led away from a weird machine with wires sticking out every which way. He shivered and moved on. He peeked in another door at the end of the hall. Inside there was training equipment and a few HYDRA agents. His eyes locked on one in particular. A woman with red hair was rather violently giving a punching bag her all. She was obviously the one he had come for. He wasn't quite sure how to get to her. He was alone and unarmed and she and her five buddies all had multiple guns and knives.

 _'Oh well, here goes.'_ He thought as he strutted in. They all turned to look at him. The agents glanced at each other nervously, tryin to decide whether to shoot or not. "Uhhh, you're Natalia Alianovna, the Black Widow, right?" He asked boldly, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible.

"American." She muttered. Clint had to dodge her arm flying towards him. The other agents jeered at them in Russian, all thoughts of training dimissed to watch the battle. After several minutes neither of them had gained any headway. The agents, bred, returned to their workouts. Clint was tiring quickly, but she didn't seem to be wearing down at all. He felt a bit of warm liquid trickle from his mouth. Another blow to the head knocked him over. She had him pinned down. Images of his wife and children flashed through his brain. He didn't want this to be the way, so far from home, he didn't want his children to be fatherless. He struggled to remain concious as the blows kept coming.

The hits stopped. A booming voice called out her name. Apparently Clint's captor had woken upand was now yelling at Black Widow in Russian. Clint didn't understand a word of it, but he guessed it was a bit more then friendly chatting.

She bolted out of a back door behind a curtain. Clint jumped up and dashed after her, barely escaping getting shot by the remaining agents.

Outside it was hailing. The Black Widow ran with her arms protecting her head. "Wait!" Clint yelled, drawing his bow. She turned and looked back at him. Green eyes met grey. All Clint saw in them was fear. She wasn't the threat, HYDRA was! She was just a scared girl. "Wait!" He called again. She didn't turn again. He didn't blame her.

 ***This story includes an OC of my friends, so therefore he ahs three, Clarabelle, Cooper, and Lila**

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 **Hope you guys like this! I'll try to get chapter three out soon. Please leave a review with what you thought about it! Sorry about any typos, I haven't gotten around to editing this and I decided not to make you wait longer (and I'm lazy :P)**


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